Ally of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “Were you at the Abernathys’ ball at Wintersmeet?” Douglas went on, forking up fish with every evidence of enjoyment. “It was the event of the season.”

  “I don’t move in those circles,” Fiona said. “And I was back in Aurilien at Wintersmeet, with my family.”

  “Who is your family, then?”

  “No one you know. We’re not wealthy or noble.” Her sick feeling at having been the target of his magic sharpened her tongue.

  “I see. And Seb married you?” He put the faintest emphasis on “married.” Sebastian shoved his chair back and stood, anger distorting his features.

  “Douglas,” his mother said sharply. “Sebastian, sit down. I won’t have fighting at this table.”

  “Then you should tell him to mind his manners,” Sebastian snapped. Fiona wished she dared flee. She ducked her head and picked at her fish, which flaked further.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean any insult,” Douglas drawled. “I was just surprised that you didn’t choose someone of your own station. Not that I blame you. If I’d seen you first, Fiona, I might have snapped you up before Seb had a chance. How unfortunate.”

  “I call it fortunate,” Sebastian said, slowly resuming his seat. His thigh pressed against Fiona’s briefly. She had no idea what it meant—was it a warning? And if so, against what? She already knew Douglas was potentially dangerous. “But I don’t think Fiona is your type.”

  “If she fell in love with you, that’s probably true.”

  “Douglas,” his mother warned him. Douglas shrugged again and went back to eating.

  “Have you been to Veribold often?” Great-Uncle Sebastian asked.

  “I used to go frequently, with…on trading journeys,” Fiona replied. The fish, and Douglas’s regard, were making her mouth dry, and she took a drink of wine without thinking. The alcohol, so unfamiliar after all these years, burned her throat. No more for her. “But this was the first time in several years.”

  “I spent many years in Veribold when I was young,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said. “I was my mother’s ambassador to the Jaixante, and later, my sister’s. They’re a fascinating people, if a tad standoffish. Do you speak Veriboldan?” he said in that language.

  “I do,” Fiona replied in the same tongue. “Though I’m rusty.” His mother. Queen Willow North. It suddenly struck her as ludicrous that she was sitting at table with a man who’d known the first North Queen—of course he’d known her, he was her son. She, Fiona Cooper, rubbing elbows with royalty. It was too ridiculous for words.

  “You’ll have to tell me how you found Haizea,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said. “I understand they’ve embraced light Devisery to the same degree we have. In my day, Devices were still a new thing, though my father must have singlehandedly lit Aurilien by the time I was five.”

  “In your day, the earth’s crust hadn’t yet cooled,” Landon said, and laughed at his joke. Fiona winced inwardly. She had expected better from the Crown Prince, but it seemed he was the sort of man who lived with his foot in his mouth.

  “I’m glad you find my age so amusing,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said coolly. “Coming from someone with the mental age of a five-year-old, that fills me with great hope for the rising generation.”

  Landon blinked, looking for all the world like the cousin of Fiona’s fish. “What?”

  “Our great-grandfather Kerish North was the most talented Deviser of his generation,” Emily said hastily. “Have you been to the Zedechen Bethel? He invented the Devices that make the statues glow at the solstices.”

  “I have. I grew up in Aurilien, remember?” In a neighborhood none of these people would ever have visited. She wished the interminable meal was over, that she was free of them and their tense familial relationships and headed south. Emily was nice enough, but it was clear none of the others knew what to make of her, and felt free to express that confusion as rudeness. Even if some of it was unintentional.

  “Oh.” Emily turned away, and Fiona wished she hadn’t sounded so abrupt. Sebastian pressed his thigh against hers once again, but she had no idea what he meant to convey. Gratefully, she leaned back in her chair to allow the servitor to remove her plate, but was taken aback when he set a third plate in front of her, this one with a steaming slice of roast beef and a pile of limp asparagus decorating it. She couldn’t think of anything more expensive than asparagus in winter, and the cook had ruined it by boiling it until it was stringy. So much food…she was already full, and heaven only knew how many more courses were on the way.

  She picked at the roast beef, which was unexpectedly tender and delicious, and wished she hadn’t eaten so much of the earlier courses. Sebastian left his asparagus, too. If she were the Queen, she’d fire the cook. But Queen Genevieve seemed perfectly content with her meal, and Landon, who Sebastian had said enjoyed his food, had cleaned every plate put in front of him despite the low quality. This meal couldn’t possibly go on much longer.

  Master Thornton, who sat at the Queen’s left hand, had been silent throughout the meal, but now said, “Perhaps we should arrange for a second wedding ceremony. We would not like the people to believe there is anything shady about your union.”

  “Fiona and I are satisfied, and it’s nobody else’s business,” Sebastian said.

  “You are a prince, and therefore your life is everyone’s business,” Master Thornton said. “Or do you have so little respect for your lady wife that you wish to expose her to gossip?”

  “We can discuss it when we return,” Fiona said, quickly overriding whatever Sebastian had been about to say. There was no point arguing over a marriage that didn’t exist. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  “If it’s what you want,” Sebastian said. “I still don’t think it’s necessary.”

  “Oh, but a big ceremony, and a reception afterward—” Emily said, regaining her spirits. “It will be such fun, Seb!”

  “You don’t know that,” Douglas said. “Fiona might not know how to dance. She’s probably not used to high society. You’ll just embarrass her.”

  His tone of voice, verging on mocking, made the sick feeling return. Sebastian dropped his napkin on his plate and rose. “I’m going to take Fiona to meet Father now,” he said. “I think we’re finished here.”

  “The meal isn’t over, Sebastian,” his mother pointed out.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” Sebastian said. “Fiona?”

  She’d never been more grateful to anyone in her life. She laid her napkin across her plate in imitation of Sebastian and accepted his arm. He didn’t exactly drag her out of the room, but he did set a brisk pace that had her stretching to keep up.

  They left the dining room and turned left. Sebastian strode down the hall in silence. His face was grim, his jaw clenched. “Sebastian, slow down,” Fiona protested. “I can’t run in this dress.”

  “Sorry,” Sebastian said, slowing to a walk. “I hope you were finished eating. You looked as if you were just poking at your food, there at the end.”

  “I was. I didn’t have the stomach for most of it.”

  “Mother’s taste buds have atrophied over the years. She can’t tell the difference between good and bad food anymore. Her cook is lazy, but Mother won’t fire her because she’s been with the family for so long.” He sighed. “That was a disaster.”

  “It wasn’t so bad.”

  “I had no idea my family could behave so rudely. I apologize for them.”

  Fiona refrained from pointing out that it was exactly what she’d warned him about. “I don’t hold it against you.” It wasn’t his fault he believed the impossible. She was an outsider, and that would never change.

  23

  Sebastian stopped at one of the identical doors. “Father might be…tetchy…tonight,” he said. “Please don’t take offense. He tries to be polite, but he’s in pain much of the time, and he hates being weak.”

  “I understand.”

  Sebastian opened the door. The room beyond was warmer than the hallway and smelle
d distantly of stewed peaches. It was a sitting room much like Sebastian’s, but where his had a homey feel to it, as homey as a room in a palace might be, this felt unused, the furniture arranged at severe right angles without the small adjustments that said people sat in the chairs or wrote at the tables. The curtains were drawn back, revealing the darkened sky and a glimpse of another ell of the palace. Light Devices made to look like candles flickered on the black marble mantel, making Fiona think not of wealth, but of a tomb.

  Two other doors flanked the cold fireplace. Sebastian made for the right-hand one and knocked softly, then opened it without waiting for a reply. Fiona followed him, hesitating before stepping across the threshold. The smell of peaches struck her in the face, an almost tangible wave of sweetness followed by damp, muggy heat. Fiona suppressed a choked gag of disgust and breathed shallowly.

  The only light in the room came from the fire in the white marble fireplace the inverse of the one in the sitting room. Where the sitting room fireplace had been empty, the fire here blazed bright and hot, making her wish she dared take it in hand. An enormous pot filled with water boiled happily over the flames, filling the room with hot steam. The steam clung to her face and bare arms like a second skin, making her even more uncomfortable.

  A four-poster bed big enough to fit five people was pulled up into the center of the room, next to the fire. A man lay there, propped on half a dozen pillows, regarding Sebastian with steady dark eyes that crinkled at the corners. His hair was as white as Great-Uncle Sebastian’s, but thinning and receding from his forehead. He looked hale enough, but lines dragged down the corners of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Sebastian,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Who is this young lady?” Fiona had a feeling he already knew—well, the Queen would surely have told him of his second son’s unexpected marriage.

  She thought Sebastian might have come to the same conclusion, but he said politely, “Father, may I introduce Fiona North, my wife.”

  “Come closer. My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” James North said. Fiona complied, coming right up to the edge of the bed to stand by Sebastian. “She’s pretty enough. What’s your family, young lady?”

  “Cooper, sir. You won’t have heard of them.”

  “You’re right. But I don’t care, so long as you make my son happy.” James coughed, a barking sound that turned into a hacking, wet noise that shook his whole body. Sebastian helped him sit up more fully and supported him until he regained his composure. “Genevieve tells me she’s a nobody. Said it like I should be shocked.”

  Sebastian said nothing. James went on, “She’s not pregnant, is she?”

  Fiona gasped. “Of course not!” Sebastian said. “You think that’s the only reason I’d marry a woman not of the nobility?”

  “Stop bristling at me, boy, it’s a natural question.” James turned his dark-eyed gaze on Fiona. “No, I think I see very well why you’d marry her.”

  “Because of my looks?” Fiona said, irritated by his casual appraisal. “You must have a low opinion of Sebastian if you think he’s that shallow.”

  “Hah!” said James. “So you can speak. And speak up for yourself, more to the point. Good.” He coughed again, not as violently, wiped his mouth, and added, “I’ve long wondered whether Sebastian would ever find a woman who meets his appallingly high standards. What made your first marriage fail?”

  Fiona gaped, caught without words. “Father, that’s irrelevant,” Sebastian said.

  “Where one marriage can fail, another might too,” James said. “Well, girl?”

  “We didn’t love each other,” Fiona said. “Worse, we didn’t respect each other, and that came out as fighting and recrimination. He was dismissive of me, and I wasn’t open with him. It was a bad match that only became worse as time went on. I don’t intend to repeat those mistakes.” She remembered in time it was all a ruse before saying Sebastian and I won’t fall into that trap.

  “Good,” James said. Pain briefly creased his features, and Sebastian took a step toward the bed, but his father waved him off impatiently. “Good. You own your failings as well as your former husband’s. I despise people who can’t admit to weakness.”

  “I don’t think we can learn from our mistakes unless we admit we’ve made them,” Fiona said.

  “Very wise.” James closed his eyes and breathed deeply as if exhausted. “Go now. You have my blessing, though I notice you didn’t ask for it. I suppose that tells me how I rate in my own home.”

  “You know how much I respect you, Father,” Sebastian said, taking James’s hand and gripping it tightly.

  “Yes, yes. Leave me. I need to rest. And ring the bell, would you? I think I could eat something.”

  Sebastian pulled a rope dangling near his father’s head. James could have reached it himself, Fiona judged, but she wondered how much strength he had. He didn’t look as if he could support himself, let alone raise his arms. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, and meant it.

  “Come back again soon,” James said, his eyes still closed. “And give me grandchildren before I’m too sick to appreciate them.”

  Sebastian guided Fiona out of the suite, then stood in the hallway, fists clenched. “What is it?” Fiona asked.

  “He’s been sick for three years,” Sebastian said in a low voice. “I can remember when he was strong and…he used to play with us, all these roughhousing games, and now…”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Are you tired? It’s early yet, but I don’t feel like socializing. You can have the bed.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  That didn’t seem to invite her to comment further, so she held her tongue.

  Fiona watched the halls closely on their return and observed that the wallpaper in each hall was subtly different. It put her that much closer to being able to find her way back to her—to Sebastian’s room. Too bad the doors were identical. Maybe she needed to count.

  Sebastian opened the door to his suite for her, and she took two steps across the threshold and stopped. Great-Uncle Sebastian sat on the long sofa, his legs crossed at the ankles. “How’s your father?” he asked.

  “Better than usual. I think the new treatment is working.” Sebastian shut the door and took a seat near his great-uncle. Fiona took the chair opposite him. “But you didn’t come here to chat about Father.”

  Great-Uncle Sebastian shook his head. “I would like to know,” he said, “why you’re pretending to be married.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. She looked to Sebastian for her cue, but he didn’t seem at all surprised by his great-uncle’s question. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “All I can say is that it’s to protect Fiona.”

  “Can’t tell me. Does the Queen have anything to do with this?”

  Sebastian said nothing. “Never mind,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said. “Of course Genny has something to do with it. She’s gotten conniving in her old age. Her mother would not have been proud of her, more’s the pity.”

  “How did you know?” Fiona asked.

  “That’s not—” Sebastian began.

  “I have inherent magic,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said. “I always know where the members of my family are, anywhere in the world. That means I know who they are. And since I didn’t suddenly gain one recently, I know you’re not sworn and sealed to the North family. Nor is Sebastian sworn and sealed to yours.”

  Fiona shot Sebastian a startled look. So this was who he’d meant when he said he knew someone with inherent magic! No wonder he wasn’t afraid of it; it was hard to imagine being afraid of Great-Uncle Sebastian, though not because he was ineffectual and powerless. It was the eyes, Fiona realized, calm and direct and capable of seeing through you to your core, and yet she was certain he had never hurt another person, physically or emotionally, in his life.

  “That’s quite a secret to entrust to a total stranger,” she sa
id. “For all you know, I might spread the news around, especially since I’m not really a North.”

  “If you’re lying to Genny about being married, you must be afraid of something, and that’s a secret I might use against you in turn,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said. “We’re both in each other’s power now. But in truth, you strike me as someone who knows how to keep a secret.”

  You have no idea. “Thank you. I think.”

  The elderly man smiled, making his blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “So, you met on the way to Veribold,” he said. “How was your trip?”

  “Well enough,” Sebastian said. “I can’t tell you the details.”

  “More secrets. Sebastian, are you in trouble?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “So you’re protecting someone else.”

  “I think we should discuss other topics. I told Fiona you have some amazing stories.”

  The blue eyes crinkled more. “Very well. I’ll stop badgering you. But I won’t promise not to lean on Genny until she tells all.”

  Fiona thought that was unlikely, but said, “When was the last time you were in Veribold, sir?”

  “Oh, it must be twenty years now. No, twenty-one almost exactly. I was there for the Election, and that’s coming up in a week or so.”

  “They were preparing for the next Election when we were in Haizea,” Sebastian said. “Were you there officially?”

  “As an envoy, a neutral observer. The priestesses of the Irantzen Temple, who oversee the ceremonies, invite representatives from the neighboring countries to watch the proceedings. They say it’s to showcase their superior form of government, but I’ve always thought it was to keep the candidates honest. They wouldn’t want to make their country look bad in front of foreigners.” Great-Uncle Sebastian leaned back on the sofa and clasped his hands in his lap. “Veriboldans are very big on not losing face.”